Who We’re Not

We aren’t who we are,
And we aren’t who we
Aren’t—no, we just aren’t
At all, yet we feel
Like we are, we are.

We are who we aren’t,
All of us who aren’t,
All the names we aren’t,
All the waves from us
Who aren’t, who we’re not—

Those are who we are.
We pick up the shells
Of selves waves wash up
In their tides for us.
We cart home the stacks

Of selves the waves gave
Us, that aren’t us, but
From which we make us.
I have a small shelf
Of selves. Some have more.

Go back to the shore.
The waves will not stop.
Comb the sands. You’ll find
Selves from years and years
Past—you you can use.